


Stay

by andrasteemeraldpetal



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Octopunk Media's Detroit: Evolution Fan Film, Post-Octopunk Media's Detroit: Evolution Fan Film, Sickfic, Sweet, Whump, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:35:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28683387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andrasteemeraldpetal/pseuds/andrasteemeraldpetal
Summary: Gavin had never had what he would qualify as a “honeymoon phase” in any of his previous relationships, but he could already tell that this, with Nines, was different.Which was why Gavin had not expected to wake up with this vague sense of apprehension the day Nines was expected back in the department after a week consulting on another case…(Note Detroit Evolution tag. I know nothing about Detroit: Become Human)
Relationships: Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed
Comments: 12
Kudos: 99





	Stay

Gavin had never had what he would qualify as a “honeymoon phase” in any of his previous relationships. The beginnings of those had often felt like little more than the beginning of the end, when the thrills of makeouts and hookups faded and all that was left was the truth of what they had signed up for: a guy addicted to work who never texted back or answered personal questions or slept long enough to approximate any level of pleasantness.

With that vast wealth of miserable experience behind him, Gavin could already tell that this, with Nines, was different. Not just because Nines already knew how work-obsessed and unpleasant he could be, but because Gavin himself had never felt this way this long into a relationship. He still felt Nines’ gaze on him like a physical impact, was still swept away by a soaring feeling every time they kissed. He had even caught himself blushing more than once, not that he would ever admit it out loud.

Which was why Gavin had not expected to wake up with this vague sense of apprehension the day Nines was expected back in the department after a week consulting on another case. He glared at himself as he slowly brushed his teeth, cursing this lifelong reflex he had to sabotage the good things in his life.

As he walked to the precinct, he felt unbearably hot in his coat and scarf, bundled against the Detroit December.

As he worked through his lunch break, he felt physically awful but could not convince himself to stop and eat something.

And as the last hours of this infinitely long day finally came around, Gavin looked at the now-cold cup of coffee on the corner of his desk, the past hours an exhausting but unproductive blur, and he felt something he could finally put a name to grip his stomach.

He was going to be sick.

Gavin closed his eyes against the increasingly painful glare of the overhead lights and tried to concentrate, to bargain with his body.

_Just an hour. One more hour and then you can get a ride share and go straight home._

After several deep breaths, Gavin cracked one eye open to check the time.

_Fifty-five minutes. Just fifty-five minutes…_

“Gavin. Gavin?”

Even the thought of facing the bright lights again made the nausea growing in Gavin’s stomach rise in retaliation, so he waved his hand over his eyes. Uncertain about opening his mouth without consequences, Gavin could only manage a groan in response.

“Whoa, okay,” Chris said. “You need to go home.”

Gavin could not argue.

“I’m going to call you a ride, and in return you’re not going to hurl on me, deal?”

Gavin half-heartedly flipped him off. Still, he managed to hold up his end of the bargain as Chris helped him out of the precinct and into the waiting vehicle.

“Feel better, man.”

But Gavin barely heard him over the chant in his head, the only thing keeping him together as he swayed in the back of the car.

_Ten minutes…_

_Nine minutes…_

Nines smiled as the elevator doors opened to reveal Tina in her street clothes, her winter coat folded over her arm and a pink toque on her head, with a large pompom that bobbled when she moved.

“Good afternoon,” he said as he boarded, not surprised to see that he and Tina were headed to the same floor.

“Welcome back to homicide!” she said, bumping him with her elbow. “I just heard how excited I sounded when I said ‘homicide’...”

Nines laughed, and when he glanced at Tina she was smiling. It was fascinating to observe how markedly different the personas of Officer Chen and Tina were, especially against his experience with Gavin who always so… Gavin.

“Can I have him for ten minutes before you two whisk off somewhere?”

“Of course,” Nines replied, reaching his hand in front of the elevator doors after they slid open to let Tina go first. “As far as I know we have no immediate plans for the evening.”

“Nobody _plans_ to get caught making out in the copy room five minutes after clocking out, but it still happens,” Tina said, and Nines felt something like static spread across his cheeks.

They came up to Gavin’s curiously empty desk. Nines noticed the almost full mug of coffee. With a quick scan he determined it had been poured this morning and left to cool all day.

He was still staring at it when he heard Tina at Chris’ desk.

“Detective Miller, I’d like to report a missing person.”

“I sent him home half an hour ago,” Chris said. “He looked like death warmed up. Didn’t even try to argue with me.”

Nines was already halfway to the stairwell when he heard Tina again.

“Text me when you get there!”

He flashed her a thumbs up before the heavy fire door swung shut behind him and he sprinted down the stairs.

Gavin’s apartment was pitch dark, not one light turned on before the early winter night settled over the city.

The empty desk, the abandoned coffee, and now seeing Gavin’s apartment in night vision. Nines was disarmed by how deeply these small facts affected him, things so very against the nature of the Gavin he knew.

The Gavin he…

He clicked on the kitchen lights and turned on a lamp in the living room as he made his way through the apartment.

“Gavin?” he called softly, glancing into the empty bedroom. When he turned around, he saw the boots in the bathroom. As he stepped into the doorway the red reflection of his LED in the mirror glowed in his peripheral vision.

Gavin lay on the floor, boots on, coat on, arms crossed over his chest, forehead pressed against the porcelain at the foot of the toilet.

Nines recalled a promise he had made to stop regularly scanning Gavin’s vitals. But what was the point of deviancy if he could not break that promise in the face of what felt very much like an emergency?

Gavin had a fever, but he was sleeping now, his breathing deep and even. Nines felt his own processors finally slow down as he watched the steady beat of Gavin’s pulse.

With some difficulty maneuvering in the small bathroom, Nines lifted Gavin into his arms and carried him to bed. Now that he knew he was mostly all right, Nines even smiled at this pliant, serene version of him. Under normal circumstances Gavin never would have allowed this, but Nines quite liked holding him like this, gently easing him onto the bed, slowly undressing him.

He took off Gavin’s boots, his socks. Turned Gavin’s jeans inside out as he carefully peeled them off. Eased Gavin’s arms out of his coat and gently pulled it out from underneath him. He found a soft blanket in the living room and tucked it close to Gavin’s chilled skin before pulling the duvet over him as well.

And for no other reason than he could not help it, Nines brushed a stray curl off Gavin’s forehead, briefly touching him, feeling the fever he already knew was there.

Leaving Gavin to sleep, Nines went back to the kitchen to lean against the counter as he messaged Tina.

_He has the flu. How do I help?_

Before Gavin even opened his eyes, a general feeling of awful washed over him. He was cold and sweaty, a terrible stale taste in his mouth, tears dried in the corners of his eyes.

But he was also tucked in bed, covered up. He took a deep breath of a clean laundry smell that he knew was not his sheets.

“Nines,” he sighed, eyes still closed as a cool compress touched his forehead.

“Good morning,” came that deep, calm voice that Gavin had not heard for days. “Don’t worry, I already called you in sick. Chris insisted that you stay the hell away from him until you feel better.”

Gavin tried to smile. He had not counted on fireworks and bouquets for their reunion, but he had certainly wanted more than this.

Still, there was something to opening his eyes and finding Nines sitting beside him in the pale morning light, gazing at him as he dabbed the compress down the side of his face.

“How are you feeling?” Nines asked.

Gavin’s instinct was to answer with a sarcastic invitation to scan him and find out, but he still did not feel confident to open his mouth with no repercussions, so all he said was, “Rough.”

Nines moved the compress and gently brushed his knuckles against Gavin’s jaw. “I’m sorry you feel so poorly. I know you’re probably not hungry—”

Gavin groaned at the mere mention of food.

“—but I brought you this.” Nines tipped up a bowl on the nightstand so Gavin could see the popsicle within. It was a strange dark green colour that definitely made it look more like medicine than summertime fun. “Electrolytes will help you feel better.”

With another groan Gavin pulled himself to sit up just enough so he was not lying flat and reached for the bowl. Nines passed it to him and Gavin started by just touching the popsicle to his parted lips. His stomach did not somersault in response, but still he continued slowly. As he did, Nines touched his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Just do it,” Gavin muttered.

“Oh, I already have. Several times. Your fever has not dropped since last night,” Nines said without a hint of apology. “I just… like this.”

Too weak to snark, Gavin gave into his next impulse which was to tilt his face towards Nines’ hand, and the tender smile that flickered across Nines’ face was the best remedy of all so far.

Gavin finished the popsicle—half of it melting in the time he took to eat it—and as he settled back into bed Nines cleared the bowl and compress from the nightstand. By the time he returned with a dutiful “is there anything else I can do?”, Gavin already felt himself being pulled back down into sleep.

“The blinds,” he said, knowing that eventually the bright afternoon sun would come for him.

There was a swish behind him as the blinds were drawn.

“Anything else?”

Gavin could not tell if Nines’ voice was softer or if he himself was falling farther and farther away. Nor did he know if he said the word aloud or only thought it.

_Stay._

Nines was staggered that Gavin slept through until evening. He had sat by Gavin’s bedside into the early afternoon, then took himself to the living room to rest, though he never reached stasis as his thoughts continued to whir and whir. He was wiping down the kitchen counter when Gavin padded out of the bedroom, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, his legs and feet bare.

“I need a glass of water,” Gavin said hoarsely as he rummaged through the cupboard.

Nines took a step back to account for the extra bulk of Gavin’s blanket in the small kitchen. “I would have brought you one.”

“I know.” Gavin turned on the faucet and filled a glass. “I felt like I needed to get out of bed.”

Nines leaned back against the counter beside where Gavin stood at the sink to swish and spit two mouthfuls of water. He even took a tentative sip and grimaced as he swallowed.

“How am I doing?” Gavin asked.

“Still a high temperature,” Nines replied. “Elevated heart rate from your big adventure.”

Gavin slid his gaze towards Nines, almost managing annoyance. But then he pitched forward and retched into the sink. As he braced himself there, recovering, waiting, Nines rubbed his back, felt him trembling. Felt the violent contraction of muscles as Gavin was sick again.

Nines felt something clench inside himself, something he could not identify.

“It’s all right,” he said softly, for both of them, as Gavin heaved. “It’s all right.”

Gavin had dropped down to his elbows, his forehead suspended in his hands. He spit and sniffled, and took a deep shaky breath that Nines felt under his palm.

After a few minutes, Gavin stood back up, wiping his eyes. Nines reached for a clean dishcloth from the drawer behind him and offered it. Instead of taking it, Gavin turned to face him and let Nines dry his tears, cup his face, wipe the corner of his mouth.

“I used to be a lot more heroic about throwing up,” Gavin sighed as he turned on the faucet to rinse the sink. “Now look at me.”

Nines was already looking. Gavin’s damp, dishevelled curls, his pale face, the sheen of fever over his hazel eyes. It was one thing to comprehend the danger Gavin was in every day because of his job, because of his recklessness. It was quite another to see him felled by illness, by this randomness that reminded Nines that Gavin was not only human, but mortal.

He felt that twist again, but his system reported no abnormalities. This tended to be the case when it came to Gavin, as if his feelings were not only deviancy but an entirely separate part of him growing and evolving. He had thought it might stop when this relationship was no longer limited to his thoughts, that it all might finally integrate in a real way into his system when there were real-world experiences to react to, but that had not been so. While it was mechanics that allowed him to do things like kiss, learn how Gavin liked to be kissed, it was this mysterious part of him that had developed the _want_ to kiss, that had finally acted those months ago, that kept wanting more. The same part that seized with dread to see Gavin sick and shaking.

“Let me help you back to bed.”

Gavin leaned on him, seeming small under his blanket.

Nines tucked him back in, under the blanket and under the duvet, and Gavin curled into a small ball. There was no space left on the edge of mattress for Nines to sit, so he briefly touched Gavin’s cheek, intending to leave him to sleep, but then Gavin reached up through the blankets to take his hand.

“I’m here if you need anything,” he said as Gavin’s grip slackened.

And there was that pull again, that need that dwelled inside him, but Nines ignored it and returned to the living room. Not that long ago Gavin would have been irate at the idea of Nines hovering outside his door, watching him sleep. Nines was not certain his Gavin of now would tolerate it either, but for very different reasons.

Nights were long in Detroit in December, and it was still full dark when Gavin woke enough to toss and turn, comfort impossible as his fever spiked. First he felt too hot, then after fighting his limbs out from under the blankets, quickly too cold. As he moved his head from side to side on the pillow, he briefly, barely opened his eyes.

There was a tall silhouette in the doorway, casting a shirt over his shoulders, bending to strip off his pants.

“Trying to kill me?” Gavin asked, his heart fluttering. He fought to keep his eyes open, to watch the light from the living room skim the pale edges of Nines’ body.

Not just pale, but white, a shimmer as Nines retracted his skin.

Gavin had to close his eyes—regret another miserable sensation writhing inside him. He felt the other side of the bed drop with weight, coaxing him onto his left side to land in Nines’ lap.

The body that met Gavin’s was so refreshingly cool that he loudly sighed.

Nines adjusted himself farther down the headboard, less upright so Gavin could drape himself over Nines’ chest, his body, their legs a tangle under the duvet Gavin dragged with him. With the contact he felt hundreds of small jets of cool air brush against his skin.

Nines wrapped one arm around his back, reached up underneath Gavin’s t-shirt to press a cool hand between his shoulders.

Gavin sighed again, and felt the vibration of a soft, deep sound in Nines’ chest. And then he heard it, close to his ear, the rhythmic thrum of Nines’ thirium pump.

As Gavin feel asleep, he hoped that his dreams would bring him back to this bed, into the arms of this beautiful man, for there was nothing Gavin would rather imagine.

Strangely it was the morning light that woke Nines from stasis. He did not usually require rest for that long, and it was rare indeed that he had not been roused by the fact that he was now in the bed alone. Nines unfurled his skin back over his casing and sat up against the headboard, brushing his hand over the blankets still warm from Gavin’s body.

Holding him, feeling him had been so…

“Morning,” Gavin said, gruff-voiced as he padded into the room, hair wet, a towel around his waist that he dropped as he slid back under the covers, laying at Nines’ side.

Nines touched Gavin’s forehead. “How are you feeling?”

“Bit better now that I’ve showered,” Gavin said.

The effort to do so must have taken much from him as he looked ready to fall asleep again. This vulnerable, needy version of Gavin struck straight to that strange part of Nines, a flutter somewhere or maybe everywhere.

“Good,” Nines said, and the room was silent until Gavin began to softly snore.

Because he could—because he wanted to—Nines stayed in bed with him, eventually lying back down so they were face-to-face, marvelling at the universe that had made Gavin, that had made him, that had brought them into this bed together.

He indulged in staring, something Gavin usually squirmed under, not wanting to be so closely looked at. Some strange human intuition allowed him to know when Nines was doing it even when his eyes were closed, but not this morning, so deep in sleep. The planes of his face, the scruff on his jaw dark against the pallor of his illness, the tumble of drying curls over his forehead.

Perhaps that human intuition was working after all as Gavin tilted forward to close the narrow space between them with a kiss. He tasted intensely of menthol.

Surprised and stimulated, Nines’ processors analyzed the components and supplied him with the answer of mouthwash, but that did not stop him from exploring further, swiping his tongue through Gavin’s mouth.

Gavin moaned softly and melted into him, but still withdrew.

“Probably shouldn’t,” he sighed.

“You think I’ll catch a virus from you?” Nines teased, brushing his nose against Gavin’s.

Gavin chuckled. “No, but I do think it would take me days to recover.”

Nines retreated to the middle of his pillow. He could see some colour back in Gavin’s cheeks, his lips.

“Do you think you could eat something?”

Gavin made a pained face and shook his head.

“That’s all right. I’ll get you another popsicle. You need to keep up your strength.”

Nines got to the edge of the mattress, but was halted by a hand on his.

“Nines… thanks.”

Chancing a glance back over his shoulder, Nines saw the last flicker of the intense emotion of Gavin’s face—part affection, part fear. He smiled to himself and intertwined their fingers, wishing his LED had a colour beyond contented blue.

The appropriate response was _you’re welcome_ , but Nines felt something else.

“I love you, Gavin,” he said, looking at their clasped hands, giving Gavin privacy to react. They had both used the word before, but not so directly as this. They had used it to tease each other, almost as an accusation, a word that they each put in the other’s mouth, but never claimed.

“Nines, I…” He sounded unsure, but he held Nines’ hand tighter.

“You don’t have to say anything. If there ever comes a day when you do… I’m not going anywhere,” Nines said, using those familiar words.

Gavin exhaled.

Before finally getting up, Nines lifted their hands to press a kiss to Gavin’s knuckles. With another smile he wondered how much time Gavin would need to recover from watching him walk across the room naked—some intuition of his own knew Gavin was staring.

The next time Gavin woke, it was dark again and he was alone in bed. Clean from his shower, nourished by the last popsicle Nines had given him, no longer writhing with fever, this felt like waking up more properly than he had felt in days. How long had it been?

There was a warm smell coming from the kitchen that did not make his stomach turn and Gavin convinced himself to get up, to pull on a pair of sweatpants, to wrap the blanket over his shoulders and wander out of the dark cave of his bedroom.

Nines stood attentively at a pot on the stove, lifting the lid off whatever it was and fully unleashing the smell of the soup into the apartment.

Gavin wanted to wrap his arms around Nines, to feel Nines hold him, but already he had to pause and slide onto one of the stools at the kitchen counter, physically exhausted. And he was not sure… He had never navigated his way around or through or whatever direction he was supposed to go with “I love you.” Nines had said he did not need to say it, but still it felt unfair, uneven. Like Gavin was not holding up his end of things, and if he believed in anything it was the balance of justice.

“Smells good,” he said, propping his head against his hand to stay upright, a necessary allowance as Nines glanced at him and he felt the impact of that blue-eyed gaze.

“Does that mean you could be tempted to eat something?” Nines asked, turning his attention back to the pot, stirring.

“You tell me,” Gavin said, trying to keep the teasing, the challenge out of his voice.

Nines glanced at him again and Gavin wondered if it was possible he could feel the scan over his body. He certainly felt something.

“Your fever broke,” Nines said with a smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.”

“And it’s so easy to tell when you’re as monosyllabic as ever,” Nines said, and then he smiled softly. The dig helped—familiar ground for the two of them. “You look better.”

The effort to blush took what little strength Gavin still had. “What did you make?”

“I didn’t.” Nines reached for a ladle and opened a cupboard for a bowl. “Tina dropped this off. Something her mother made.”

“Tina was here?”

“Well, she came halfway down the hall, practically threw this at me, and backed away shouting ‘plague house, plague house,’ so…”

Gavin huffed a laugh.

“It’s garlic, ginger, green onion, and potato,” Nines said as he slid a spoon into the bowl and placed it in front of Gavin. “I agree, it does smell good.”

Rearranging the blanket over his shoulders so he had better use of his arms, Gavin took the spoon and lifted a small, measured amount of broth to his lips for a tentative sip. And then he waited to make sure his body would not betray him before he took another bite.

He felt Nines staring at him, and did not feel brave enough to let him know it.

Love.

 _Could_ androids fall in love? How could Nines be sure that that was what he felt?

How could anyone?

Gavin let go of the spoon and let it clatter against the bowl, wilting to balance his head in his hand again.

“Maybe too soon,” Nines said, grasping the bowl to take it away.

 _Just someone who doesn’t bail the moments things get bad._ Those had been his own words. Nines had already tolerated him enough to like him, to be attracted to him. In the months since they had confessed their feelings, Nines had been patient, open, kind. And now here he was, taking such care, paying such close attention.

It was not that Gavin was not in love—he had been in love since that night when Nines had accused him as such, the first time they kissed—but he was also so afraid. Of what? Nines had already taken the leap, and they were partners, right? Gavin would never not follow Nines into danger, would never not cover him.

Gavin laughed at himself. Only Gavin Reed could soothe himself with the thought of gunfire.

He glanced up and saw Nines frowning at him, confused.

“Did your fever make you delirious?” Nines asked.

“Maybe,” Gavin said, shaking his head, blinking against the sudden burning in his eyes.

“Gavin, seriously. Do you feel okay?”

Staring down at the counter, Gavin shakily exhaled. He reminded himself of the relief he had found in surrender these past few days and released some of the lifelong grip he had on himself. “I feel… I love you.”

“Gavin…”

“I want to say it,” Gavin said. Forcing himself to look up was far less terrifying that forcing himself to say the words. He saw something threaten the composure of Nines’ features, and that made him feel better. Both a little scared, both in love—all even. Gavin smiled in earnest now, and his heart fluttered to see Nines smile back. “I love you, Nines.”

“I love you, Gavin,” Nines said softly. “Your heart is beating very fast.”

“I thought we had a deal?” Gavin said, unable to manage any show of annoyance in his voice as they fell back into this rhythm of teasing.

Nines shrugged, the smile on his face only broadening. “All your human love songs and poems talk about the heart. I think they might have been right.”

“Where…” Gavin paused, questioning if this was appropriate to ask. “Where do you feel it?”

“Not in my thirium pump,” Nines said with a laugh. “The truth is, I don’t know. My feelings for you started somewhere… separate from anything I understand. Even when all I had with you was in my thoughts, even when we… when this became real, all those feelings have been in this other place. It’s not my programming, it’s not deviancy… It’s somewhere, something that you have always had claim to, Gavin.”

Gavin convinced himself that it was because he was tired and compromised by illness that he barely managed to blink back his tears. Then he considered that his efforts hardly mattered when Nines could see how frantic his heart was.

Nines was indeed looking at him, and Gavin blushed. There was the width of the counter and a sink between them, but Gavin felt the magnetism of Nines’ gaze as if they were close enough to kiss.

“I can help you back to bed,” Nines said.

Gavin shook his head. “I can’t lie in there anymore. I need a change of scenery.”

So instead Gavin lay down on the couch, wrapped in a fresh blanket as Nines put everything else in the wash. It was almost ten o’clock, but Gavin put on his favourite childhood movie anyway even though he was almost certain he would fall asleep. It was something of a tradition for him to watch it when he was home sick, no matter his age.

“What is this?” Nines asked as he sat down on the opposite end of the couch. He had rolled his sleeves up while he went about cleaning and Gavin was momentarily distracted by his bared skin.

“ _The Fellowship of the Ring_ ,” Gavin said. “Don’t look it up. Just enjoy it.”

He saw Nines roll his eyes and give a conceding sigh. As they watched, Nines touched the blankets covering Gavin’s feet, slowly coaxed him to unfurl his legs and stretch them over his lap. Eventually Nines laid down behind him, having to hold Gavin tight in his arms so they would both still fit on the couch.

Gavin started to doze, but was still listening, still knew what was happening from the dialogue alone. He heard Nines’ small gasp as another declaration of love filled the apartment, between a human and a creature of impossible grace and strength and knowledge. 

“Not so different,” Gavin sighed as he turned over, pressing his forehead to Nines’ chest. Nines held him tighter, and as he fell asleep Gavin wondered if he imagined it… a skip in the sound of Nines’ thirium pump.

Not so different.

**Author's Note:**

> Discovered the wonderful Detroit Evolution film and it hit me right in my fangirl heart, and this is what poured out without an abundance of editing.
> 
> Hope there was still something to enjoy <3


End file.
